It’s excerpt day from Sapphire Crucible.  The buildup is reaching critical mass!
Fendri produced a scroll from his vest pocket and opened it meticulously.  “Today you have your semi-annual meeting with the Supreme Commanders of the Imperial Forces.  They will be assembling in court shortly.”  “Good,” Mandrean barked.  “They had better produce sound reasons why their territories are in such disarray.”  “Remember to mind your temper this time,” Fendri noted.  “You rule through them.  It is their cooperation that makes the empire run effectively.  Scolding them will build no allegiance.  It could even lead to rebellion.”  “Why do you think I lose my temper?” Mandrean asked rhetorically.  “Because they are incompetent.  I will restrain nothing.  If their progress is not satisfactory, they will be lucky to escape with a scolding.  This is no side- street cart I am running.  This is the most powerful empire in the world.  To run it I need strong leaders.  If they do not produce the results I desire, the Empire will move forward over their bones.  I need results, not excuses.”  “They are closer to the people than you,” Fendri pointed out looking farther down the scroll.    “The people are timid like sheep.  They only need a strong shepherd to be kept in line.  They will follow their Emperor.  I have no doubt.”  Fendri smiled as he looked up from the parchment.  “Well there is some good news from Lord Necromancer.”  Mandrean showed immediate excitement and ran over to Fendri.  “What news?”  Fendri read from the scroll.  “Great Lord Mandrean, it is my great pleasure to inform you my agents have just apprehended Linvin Grithinshield and his entourage.  I have taken possession of the key and will deliver it to you in court today so all may see your prize.  To satisfy your curiosity I will have the Grithinshield party there to bear witness to you magnificent accomplishment.  Long live the Emperor.” Mandrean screamed with excitement.  “At last he has come through with the key.  I told you he would produce it for me.  You always doubt Necromancer’s sincerity.  Now you see he is loyal to his master.  He has no choice.” Fendri retained his composure during the jubilation.  “I am truly thankful he has produced what you sought.  That does not mean I trust him.” Mandrean clutched his friend’s shoulder and shook him in a brotherly manner.  “You worry like an old woman.  Necromancer cannot harm me and is totally obedient.  Sometimes I think I keep you around so you can do my worrying for me.”
“That may be, Manenvious, but I am also the only person who will always give you the straight truth.”  “From your point of view,” Mandrean corrected.  “That would be the only viewpoint I would have, Old Friend.  Perhaps I do worry for no reason.  If, however, I am right, you could be in danger.  Necromancer is not a person to be taken lightly.  The Supreme Commanders hold considerable power.  You must keep your wits about you.”  “Soon none of that will matter,” Mandrean said in great anticipation.  “After today, no one will dare challenge me.”  “Then I shall send for your wardrobe assistants to help you dress,” Fendri said as he resumed his rigid stance.  “You must look your best today.”  “See to it at once,” Mandrean ordered.  As Fendri turned to leave Mandrean added, “Remember to send the orders for the boy.”  Mandrean saw that Fendri stopped halfway down the stairs and turned to look at his master.  Mandrean looked indignant.  Fendri sighed and answered, “As you command, My Lord.”  With that, he left the room and went to summon the house staff.

It’s excerpt day from “Quest for the Red Sapphire.”  Ever wonder what puts the quest in motion?  Well here it is.
Anvar laughed and hugged his nephew tightly. “I’ve missed you, boy!” “And I you,” Linvin replied.  “Come; fill your cup and sit down.  Your trip has been quite long.” “Soon that distance will seem very short,” Anvar said as he sat down with his ale. “Your message made it sound like we were going on an extended trip.” “Not a trip,” Anvar said before drinking some ale, “a quest.” Linvin laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “Oh come on,” he chuckled, “a quest?  You sound so serious!” “This is serious!” Anvar fumed as he stomped the staff on the ground.  “Everything is at stake right now! Our lives and the lives of those around us hinge on the decisions we make this night.  You are ignorant of all that I speak.  In that way, I envy you.  I sometimes wish I did not know all that I do.”  Anvar’s soft eyes began to fill with tears. The comments had caught Linvin off guard.  The conversation had taken such a dramatic turn so quickly. He found himself dumbfounded and waiting for Anvar to continue. After wiping his eyes, Anvar produced a letter and handed it to Linvin.  “This is a letter from your mother. Read it slowly.”  Anvar stood and looked off as Linvin opened the letter.  He recognized the hand writing as belonging to his mother.
My Dearest Son,
Nothing would give me greater pleasure than seeing your smiling face just one more time.  Added to my list of regrets, is not being able to do just that. This will be my last contact with you.  I have taken ill and I will no longer have life when you read this.  No normal malady is to blame for my condition. My physician has informed me that someone, who went to great lengths to make my death look natural, has systematically poisoned me.  I do not know who did it or how, but I fear I do know why.  The subject is too delicate to trust to written words.  They may find their way to the wrong people.  I can only tell you to listen to your uncle and go with him.  He will be able to guide you and protect you as I thought I was doing.  I see now that he was right about many things and I have been a fool for many years. I never told you how proud I am of the man that you have become.  You are good and honorable.  Perhaps that is why the recent events have taken place.  Forgive me, my errors in judgment.  Though well intentioned, they have brought ruin on us all. Go with Anvar and do not look back.  Only by fulfilling your destiny can you make the deaths of your father and I something that served a purpose. Never has a mother known such joy, as having you for a son. Love Always, Mother

I have another 5 star review for “Quest for the Red Sapphire.”  Here it is on Amazon.com.

 5.0 out of 5 stars Wonderful descriptions in this epic fantasy novel., June 26, 2014

By 

Fieldcene "Francene" (London. U.K.) - See all my reviews

This review is from: Quest for the Red Sapphire (Sapphire Chronicles) (Kindle Edition)

I read an ARCopy. This well-written novel handles the omniscient point of view with such a lightness of touch that I was hardly aware of reading. The wonderful descriptions in this epic fantasy novel drew me into a new world of elves, humans, goblins and dragons. I was left with the impression of watching a movie to follow different characters through scenes rather than see the events unfolding through the eyes of one character.

When the strong main character is pulled away from his leadership role to attend to family, he discovers weaknesses he needs to overcome. Especially so as he prepares to follow his father's wishes and seek the red sapphire. Along with his foolhardy relatives, he fails time and again to conquer his shortcomings, but never gives up. The quest is too important.

 



 

I had the pleasure of reviewing “Still Rock Water” by Francene Stanley.  It was an excellent book and I thought I would share my review with you.
This is the story of Liliha.  As a housewife and mother of two teenaged girls on the sunny coast of Australia all seems well.  Then her erratic husband suddenly leaves her for another woman.  With the help of old friends she leaves the pain behind and relocates to the shores of England from where her family originated.  She carries with her a moonstone ring with a hidden history and the power to pull her into other people’s bodies for a short time.  Life is difficult for her as she has to leave her children in boarding school in Australia and can only see them on holidays.  Liliha struggles for money as a grown woman with few employable skills.  She loses the ring for a period and some of her self-confidence along with it.  She has opportunities arise for love but she does not want to be controlled or hurt again.  Throughout the book her strong beliefs and resiliency carry her through.  The author does an excellent job of emphasizing the deep feeling of betrayal Liliha feels in her divorce and shows how it tempers her judgment of all men and their intentions.  One catastrophe after another befalls her and still she carries on when so many would give up hope.  Even when happiness is right there to be had, she hesitates.  Her heart has been wounded and has a hard time accepting that something good could be on the horizon.  Liliha’s character has great depth and variation.  As a reader you find yourself rooting for her and feeling sorrow in her failures.  This is a book that draws you in.  Though I am fortunate not to know the pain of betrayal and divorce, the picture painted in the story is clear and distressing.  To overcome such upheaval and start a new life in a foreign land shows grit and determination.  If you like strong female characters with a dash of mysticism, this book is what you have been waiting for. 

There is a song by Pearl Jam called “Wishlist.”  It is simply a list of things they wish could happen.  There is a line in there I found painted a beautiful picture.  It goes, “I wish I was the full moon shining off a Camaro’s hood.”  Now that would be a site.  So I started thinking about the things I would wish for.  There are the standard things like wealth, good health, curing illness and disease and let’s throw in world peace to round it out.  After the obligatory wishes were done I started to think of all the frivolous things I would want.  I wish I had studied harder in school and learned more.  I wish I had taken a different major that paid better after graduation.  I wish I had never dated some of the girls I dated.  I wish I had been smart enough to marry my wife before I did.  I wish I had told off certain people long ago.  I wish I had a friend with the same political beliefs as me.  I wish I weighed less and was able to work out.  I wish my friends had happier lives and didn’t suffer so much.  I wish the people who start wars were the ones who had to fight them.  I wish my children could appreciate the sacrifices my wife and I have made over the years for them.  I wish they sold Mackinac Island Fudge ice cream where I live.  I wish I could have the feeling of watching a fireworks show happen whenever I wanted.  I wish I was a stronger person.  Then again, I wish I wasn’t so stubborn.  The nice thing about wishing is that it can be about everything.  Doing is a whole different list and is usually much shorter.  The glory of writing is that you can write about anything you want.  You can make your wishes come true through print.  One can create characters with none or your shortcomings or perhaps new ones you do not possess.  They can also have strengths you don’t or be weak where you are strong.  They can strive for things you wish you could have or turn away from what you have chosen.  There are no limits when you are looking at a blank screen or piece of paper.  One thing I am blessed with is creativity.  I am not strutting by any means but there are many I can safely say are less creative than me.  There are many that are more creative.  That’s okay.  I’m fine with that.  Writing is the one area of my life where I feel I am most in control and right where I need to be.  So if I had just one frivolous wish (not the cure cancer type) I would wish that one of my stories would touch another human being and make a positive difference in their life.  You never know.  The great thing about wishes is that once in a while they do come true.

As promised, today I bring you a new piece from “The Sapphire Crucible.”  It is so hard to show you parts without spoiling surprises.  Nevertheless, here is something to whet your appetite.  Today is your first glimpse of Lord Mandrean.
Mandrean sat back in the bed and sipped his tea.  It had been placed on his nightstand and escaped the fate of the remainder of his breakfast.  “I know I will have no peace until you are heard. Fendri, send everyone else away.  You may stay and tidy the room as we talk.” Fendri clicked his heals together and led the slaves and concubines down the stairs.  Once they exited through the great doors, he returned to the bedchambers.   Betrimpia shifted her weight to one side and stood with her arms crossed.  Fendri proceeded to gather the broken crockery and food his master cast to the floor and pile it on the tray. “Does he really need to be here?” she asked. “Fendri is the Master of my House.  I have no secrets from him.  If the situation is unsatisfactory, you may consider your audience ended.  If you choose to be difficult, I will gladly facilitate your removal with all due force.” Betrimpia softened her stance immediately and made her voice more melodic and supple.  “There is no need for that Manenvious,” she said.  “In truth I have been in a deep melancholy lately because you never seek my companionship.” Mandrean rose from the bed and spread his arms wide.  Fendri recognized the cue and adorned his body with a red velvet robe.  After tying the belt, he returned to his tasks. “You know I do not like being called that, Betrimpia,” Mandrean snapped. “It is your name, My Lord,” Betrimpia noted.  “There are no secrets here, as you said.”  “My name is no secret from Lord Fendri,” Mandrean said as he moved closer.  “You have never spoken the truth in your life.  Touching as your story is, I have a difficult time picturing you pining for me in your chamber.  So let us dispense with your tricks and come to your real reason for ruining my morning.” Betrimpia pursed her lips and said, “Very well.  I was your very first consort.  I have been with you since you became a man.  Yet for years I have languished in the bowels of your estate being ridiculed by the over-bosomed, energetic young maids you keep at your whim.  Every year you seek my companionship less and less. I have paid my dues and now desire what I have earned.” “What you have earned,” Mandrean interjected, “is a sound thrashing.” Betrimpia slammed her hand on the bed.  “I have earned the right to be your wife.  Marry me and make me the Empress I have spent nearly twenty years training to be.” “Marry you?” scoffed Mandrean.  “You have gone insane in your room.  I require no empress and even if I chose one, it would certainly not be a conniving plotter like you.” “Think of your son,” she pled. Mandrean harshly stuck his finger in her face.  Anger erupted from his lips.  “For the last time, I have no son.  You have an illegitimate child of origins I cannot say.” Betrimpia shoved his finger aside and stood face-to- face with him.  “You know there has never been another besides you.  No man could even gain access to the lower chambers.  Yet you still deny he is your son.  Look at him.  He carries your powerful frame and commanding disposition.  His aptitudes rival your own and he looks like the man I knew all those years ago.  Surely you must see he is of your blood.” Mandrean sighed and looked toward the window.  “I have given your son everything you have ever asked.  The finest tutors in the empire have taught him.  Philosophers, mathematicians, literary figures, warriors and the finest generals have educated him from birth.  He has grown into a fine young man.  I can do no more for him.” “You can be his father,” Betrimpia pled.  “Take me as your wife and acknowledge him as your son and heir.” Mandrean turned to her and smiled like a person who has solved a riddle.  “So that’s your game.  You just want me to marry you so your son can take the throne.  I wonder how long I would live after the nuptials.  How long would it take you to poison my wine, or choke me in my sleep?” “You know I could never do you harm Manenvious.  I love you.  I always have.  If you feel so insecure, keep your whores in the cellar.  I would suffer such indignity to make my Love happy.” “Oh the women will stay,” Mandrean agreed.  “You will no sooner be my wife than the sun will rise in the west.”  Betrimpia was visibly hurt by his words and formed tears in her eyes.  “If that is what you require from me, I will resign myself to being Concubine Number One.  I beg you, do not suffer your son to a life of humiliation.  Adopt him as your own and make him your heir.” “You know I do not believe in proclaiming an heir,” said Mandrean “Once one is named, the person wearing the crown tends to have his life cut short.” “You would know all about that,” Betrimpia said just loud enough to be heard. Mandrean’s anger could not be contained as he threw her to the floor.  “Are you saying I had a hand in my father’s death?” Betrimpia feigned terror as she covered her face.  “Of course not.  I merely was saying his untimely death coincided remarkably well with your reaching the age to attain the throne.  No one would ever wish such a fate on you.” “Such fate is not to be tempted,” Mandrean fumed.  “I will name no heir.  Even if I were to do so, it would never, ever, be your son.” Betrimpia crawled on her knees.  “So our son is to have no father?” Mandrean poured a goblet of wine for himself.  “Every child has a father.  Yours simply does not know who it was that soiled his mother.” With great effort, Betrimpia struggled to her feet.  She wiped her tears and said, “Then at least give him the honor of being the Leader of the Imperial Guard.  You will not find a finer horseman or soldier in the empire.” “Leadership in my elite bodyguard is earned, not given.” “Then allow him to join as a new member,” said Betrimpia.  “Let him prove himself worthy of your praise.  That is his only desire.” Mandrean sat on the edge of his bed and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Fendri, have the necessary orders created for Concubine One’s son to be issued the lowest rank in the Imperial Guard and begin his indoctrination.” Fendri stood at attention and answered.  “I shall make the arrangements when I am through here.” “Be satisfied,” Mandrean told Betrimpia.  “For that is all you shall get from me.”

It’s the weekend and the response from the book excerpts has been so positive that I am doing new ones.  Today is a piece from “Quest for the Red Sapphire.”  Some have told me that Linvin was too perfect.  This scene will show that he has his demons.
The next question was whether to bring armament.  Linvin looked at the wall and beheld his long sword from Valia.  He smiled widely and took the weapon from its hanger.  The silver scabbard was decorated in elegant scroll work.  Near its opening, was an inscription.  It read, “Bestowed to General Grithinshield, by the people of Valia, for his relief of the Siege of Sarice.  May his hand never falter!” Linvin drew the sword that had served him well on many occasions.  It was the finest blade he had ever seen, short of his father’s.  Perfectly balanced, it sliced through the air with grace, rarely seen in a weapon. He swiped with it and then drew back in a defensive stance.  He then lunged and spun toward his imaginary target, finishing with a thrust of the pommel, followed by a downward stab.  The tip stuck in the floor for a brief moment before Linvin withdrew it and slashed behind him in a circular motion. Linvin was pleased to see that he had retained his fighting skills.  The movements brought memories flowing through his mind of far off days when he was known as the Defender of Valia.  He smiled again.  The expression however, was to be short lived. Out of the corner of his eye, Linvin spied a black area on the blade.  A sudden panic overtook him as he pulled the blemish closer.  He rubbed it with his finger and it did not change.  Panic turned to horror as he realized that it was dried goblin blood.  With ravenous speed he took a towel to it and scoured the blade as though his life depended on its cleanliness.  After several frantic moments, he stopped and looked for the stain again.  It was still on the metal.  The wiping, as it turned out, had spread the area across the length of the sword. “No!” cried Linvin.  “This cannot be!  It must come off!”  Try as he might, the more he worked on the blemish, the more it coated his prized possession.  Sweat dripped from his brow as he began to pant from the effort. Then he noticed a smell enter the room.  It was not a pleasant odor, but rather the sickly stench of goblin blood.  Its pungent aroma brought vivid images of death and murder to Linvin’s inflamed mind.  He could see the faces of the enemies he had slain.  One after another, they screamed as he cut them down in every conceivable fashion.  Their fallen carcasses spraying blood on Linvin like an ocean wave. He dropped the sword and screamed as visions of slain goblins filled the room.  The walls melted away and he found himself in the swamp again surrounded by living and rotting goblins. “Get out of my head!” he shouted as he grabbed its sides, but the sights persisted.  He tried to cover his eyes, only to find that his hands were drenched with the hot, viscose fluid of the fallen. Linvin stumbled into the wall of the tree and he was back in his room again, though still surrounded by enemies who drew ever closer.  “I must get it off!” he yelled, while dousing his hands in a nearby wash-basin. Stubbornly, his hands remained black.  He scrubbed with a towel until his skin began to tear from the strain.  Still, he found no reprieve. His body shook and he neared convulsions. Crawling on the floor, Linvin wedged himself against the wall.  The goblins had their weapons out and were ready to strike him down.  Linvin folded his hands under his arms to both hide them from sight and try in vain to stop his shaking. “There is no blood!  There is no blood!  There is no blood!” he wailed while rocking himself back and forth.  His enemies were practically on top of him. Linvin closed his eyes and said aloud, “I can control this. I can stop it.  There is no blood.  There is no blood.  I know there is no blood!” He opened his eyes again and he was alone in his room.  His sword lay on floor without as much as a hint of blood upon it.  Linvin withdrew his hands from under his arms and saw only his own blood coming from where he had broken the skin in his attempt to cleanse it from something that apparently was never there to begin with. He rested his head on his knees in relief.  After a considerable amount of time, he picked up the sword and placed it back in its scabbard on the wall.

I just finished the first draft of my next book, “Mandrean Revenge.”  I don’t like spoilers so I won’t give you any but I must say it goes in a radically new direction that could not have been foreseen.  Fear not fans.  There is still plenty of action to keep you interested and there are some dialogues that will bend your noodle when you think them through.  I’m going with a little shorter book this time as the characters are mostly established.  Now comes the editing phase.  I’m pretty picky about that type of thing and it can sometimes take a while.  I need to talk to my publisher and work on dates for publishing but the point is, the story itself is done.  You’ll want to read “Quest for the Red Sapphire” and “The Sapphire Crucible” first in order for the story to fall in line.  You can find them here:  http://www.amazon.com/Quest-Red-Sapphire-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00DZ100MO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403212340&sr=8-1&keywords=quest+for+the+red+sapphire and http://www.amazon.com/Sapphire-Crucible-Chronicles-Rival-Gates-ebook/dp/B00JL0P6IG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403212407&sr=8-1&keywords=sapphire+crucible  Keep on reading and I’ll keep on writing!

I was reading an email from a fan that had read “Quest for the Red Sapphire” and was surprised to hear that the character they liked the least was Anvar Greenlith.  For those who don’t know, he is the protagonist’s (Linvin’s) uncle and mentor.  The message went on to say that he was overly critical of Linvin and needed to “get off his high horse.”  This person further added that Anvar was useless and just a nag throughout the story.  That is the thing I love about writing.  The same words mean so many different things to different people.  I, for one, have never felt Master Yoda in Star Wars was of any use.  He never gives a straight answer and usually has someone else do the dirty work.  That opinion has never been popular with Star Wars fans but I stand by it because that is the way I see the character.  It is not my intention to defend the character of Anvar because he is like a real person.  Some people will like him and others will not.  Like I said, I love that about writing.  If I were to describe Anvar for someone who had not read the book I would paint him as I envision him.  Anvar is Linvin’s maternal uncle and the only member of his family on good terms with him.  Since Linvin’s Father disappeared Anvar has taken on more of a parental guiding roll.  He is an older small elf though far from feeble.  Anvar may not physically be able to fight or perform the tasks of his nephews but he has magic that serves the party well in the quest.  He is a peacemaker between the warring cousins on the journey.  Anvar is particularly hard on Linvin.  There is no doubt about it.  While it might seem that he is overly critical, Anvar wants to set the bar higher for Linvin.  Only by rising to the challenges Anvar puts forth will Linvin prove his worth.  Is he overly critical?  Absolutely.  He was meant to be that way.  Some have compared him to Gandalf in “The Lord of the Rings” but the characters were never meant to be similar.  Anvar is teaching Linvin and trying to make him a better leader.  I find his roll to be distinct.  Now that I have said all of that I leave it up to you to decide what you think of him.  Does he help or just nag?  If you have read the book, let me know at rivalgates@hotmail.com.  If you haven’t read it then give it a try at  http://www.amazon.com/Quest-Red-Sapphire-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00DZ100MO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1403126907&sr=1-1&keywords=quest+for+the+red+sapphire

Lately I’ve been expanding my following on Twitter.  It really is an amazing site.  I am Rivalgates1 but you can be anyone you want there and write whatever you feel.  There are basically two types of accounts.  There are the people who are just on as themselves or whoever they wish to be.  Then there are the members of fandoms.  If you are in the first group you put a little biography about yourself or who you want the world to believe you are.  For example you could say you are a mother of 3 working as a toll booth operator in New Jersey.  On the other hand you could say you are a windsurfer giving lessons in Tahiti.  How much truth is in the biographies is open to debate.  For the most part I figure, so what if it’s not true?  It’s all for fun anyway.  Maybe in real life you are the toll booth worker but on Twitter you can be anyone.  Usually people like to paint personas of the type of people they want to be associated with.  If you want to be friends with skateboarders, then write something about skateboarding.  If you want to chat with people about reading you would likewise mention it.  The second groups of Twitter accounts are what are called Fandoms.  In this type of bio you place a # in front of a key word you want to use to draw other people of the same liking to you with.  So if you write #Call of Duty then all the people liking the game ‘Call of Duty’ who do searches will find your name.  You can search the same way and find people with #Call of Duty in their profile.  They might have their identification they use in the game so you can find them when you’re gaming on line.  There might also be other fandoms listed on their bio in which you might be interested.  Once you find someone you’re interested in you click ‘follow’ and then you can see all the little messages or ‘Tweets’ they send out.  That person will be sent an email saying you followed them and show your bio.  If they are interested in you then they will follow you back.  A word of advice; don’t follow big name celebrities and expect them to follow you back.  I’m still waiting for Britney Spears to follow me back.  I don’t think it’s going to happen.  After a while you build up a group of people with similar interests to you and see all the different things they post.  You can post links you like as well and it is fun.  The really nice part about it is if you aren’t on line and someone writes something, they don’t really expect you to see it unless they send you a direct message.  That goes right to your email and only to you unless they put multiple recipients.  Then you can answer just them.  The rest of the messages on twitter just roll down the screen.  It’s fun and harmless so give it a shot.  After all, it doesn’t cost anything.